


All Was Well

by thegirlwiththeunicornheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen, Hagrid screwed up, Kidnapping, Loss, Love, Real Family, What-If, loss of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 06:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19388428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththeunicornheart/pseuds/thegirlwiththeunicornheart
Summary: Derived from a dream I had, where Hagrid may have accidentally dropped baby Harry from the flying motorbike.A little bit of crack that turned into love.





	All Was Well

Harry Potter was 11 years old when he discovered that was not in fact, Harry Potter.  
In the midst of expecting nothing for his birthday (or even to be said about it, because that was life with the Dursley’s) Harry’s world turned upside down on the day of his birthday.  
He woke up as normal, in his cupboard. Dudley jumping down the stairs above him, causing clouds of dust to explode out onto him, and spiders clinging desperately to their webs to as not to fall.

  
Aunt Petunia was on fine form, storming around the kitchen, barking out commands at Harry, who was still half asleep as he tried to simultaneously fry the bacon, wash the dishes and catch the toast before it burnt.  
The mayhem started seconds after the family (plus Harry) had sat down to eat breakfast. The first sign that anything was out of the ordinary, was the constant banging on the front door.  
Uncle Vernon, not normally a patient man, burst from his seat ‘What in the ruddy hell is going on?!’ He shouted.  
He stormed into the hallway to open the front door, but before he could even ask the group of the doorstep what all the banging was about, they had burst in, and forced their way into the dining room.  
‘Ah. Harry.... or not Harry, as it seems.’ Said the man in the dress with the long white beard.  
‘Ummmmm...’ was all Harry (or not-Harry) could utter.  
Over the course of the next hour, dress man (professor Dumbledore, as it turned out) and his gang of followers attempted to explain the mix up to not-Harry and his, well, not-family.  
It seemed, then ten years ago, on the fateful night of Halloween, two families had been destroyed. One, by Lord Voldemort (not-Harry had already vowed to get a pet tortoise and name it ‘voldytort’) who had killed a small babies parents, and the other by a lumbering man by the name of Hagrid (who was awkwardly shuffling around behind the couch, head bowed in order to not hit the ceiling... again.)

  
From what not-Harry could gather, Hagrid had been tasked with collecting real-Harry from the ruins of his home only moments after his parents had been murder, and inexplicably, the Dark Lord had been vanquished.  
There seemed to have been a small accident while Hagrid was flying (flying?!?) his motorbike over the Welsh coast, and real-Harry (in true 1 year old fashion) had been wriggly, and had slipped from Hagrid’s grasp, presumably falling to his untimely death.  
In recounting the story, Hagrid assured them that he had immediately landed the bike and searched fruitlessly for real-Harry for near to an hour. In his desperation to please Dumbledore, and not be sent back to Azkaban (not-Harry had shivered at the description of the wizarding prison) Hagrid had made a rather unwise choice, and proceeded to break into a nearby house and kidnap their baby.... not-Harry.

  
Not-Harry has been delivered to Dumbledore outside of 4 Privet Drive, a little later than expected, with no one any the wiser.  
The flaw in Hagrids plan, was of course two fold. 1) not-Harry had no magic to speak of, and 2) real-Harry, in some act of self protective magic had drifted gently to the ground (miles away from where Hagrid had searched) and had been discovered the following morning by hikers, who had promptly called the local police. Real-Harry (still names Harry, thanks to the embroidered name on his blanket) had been taken in a few weeks later by a lovely young local couple. Huw Thomas has been one of the hikers who had found the poor little babi while walking the bryniau and when he’d finally made it home to tell his wife Alis, she’s not stopped nagging at him until he’d contact the police to find out what was happening to the babi.

  
And so, Harry Thomas grew up happy, healthy and loved in Cei Newydd, Ceredigion, Wales. His life was anything but exceptional. He went to school, he played soccer with his friends, Saturday’s were for chores and playing, Sunday’s for Welsh Chapel. If anything, Harry Thomas would say that his life was pretty boring. Good, but boring.. until the night leading into the 31st of July (an ordinary night for Harry, who had had his birthday guesstimated as May 17th, and was already 11...) when an owl with a letter clutched in its talons, knocked in the kitchen window while he and his Mam were washing the dishes.  
Alis screamed, Harry shrieked. Huw came running. The owl, kept knocking.  
Eventually, Huw opened the window and the owl dropped the letter. It sat on the windowsill , blinking, well... owlishly at them. Huw, noticing the name on the front ‘Harry Potter, The Kitchen, The Blue House, Cai Newydd, Ceredigion, Cymru.’ said in a rather stunned voice to Harry, ‘I assume this is for you?’  
Passing it over, Huw put the kettle on for a cup of tea, and thinking better of it, opened the liquor cabinet about the fridge and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.  
Harry, who was staring at the envelope in awe, finally opened it up, breaking the great wax seal on the back, and slipped the letter out.

  
Reading it out loud to his parents, who spluttered over their whiskey as he read the part about ‘school of witchcraft and wizardry’, Harry felt his insides glow. Suddenly, it all made sense.  
It seems that his Tad had similar thoughts, and after flinging back the last of the liquor in his glass, Huw cleared his throat, and in his broad Welsh accent said ‘Well, this does explain a lot... the floating toys, the soccer goals you make when the goalie shouldn’t have missed it.... the priests hair colour change a few Sundays ago....’  
In short order, a response letter had been written out (on Alis’ floral writing paper) and given to the owl who had been patiently waiting.  
Within the hour, a Professor Dumbledore, an awkward giant of a man by the name of Hagrid and a furious Professor McGonagall had turned up on the doorstep of The Blue House.

  
Several hours of apologies, explanations, some hysterical shrieking from Professor McGonagall later, Harry and his parents had a fairly good understanding of what had happened. From Harry’s point of view, he was sad that his birth parents has died in such an awful way, but it had also given him a sense of closure. He had not been abandoned like he’d wondered about his entire life. He was concerned that the principal of a school had been in charge of sending his groundskeeper to pick up an orphaned baby, and that the same man had then gone on to KIDNAP a baby to replace the carelessly dropped Harry.

  
By the time the professors and Hagrid had left, Harry and his parents had collapsed into the sitting room sofa, staring blankly at the muted TV.  
‘Um... is anyone else a little bit concerned over this whole dropping a baby and kidnapping another one deal?’ Harry finally uttered.  
‘Yes.’ Both of his parents responded with such force, that Harry knew that they wouldn’t be letting it go, something would be done.

Hours later, not-Harry was sitting on the couch in the living room of 4 Privet Drive, wondering the exact same thing.  
‘So...’ he said out loud to the Professors and Hagrid, ‘I have a family? Who I was kidnapped from?’ (Hagrid winced) ‘and..... the real-me is living an amazing life out there and I got stuck HERE?!’  
Version Dursley made to argue Harry’s attitude, but shit his mouth quickly at a glare from McGonagall.  
‘That does seem to be the case.’ Said Professor Dumbledore tiredly. It had after all, been quite a night and morning.

By the time Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid had left (they had both offered to accompany not-Harry back to his birth family but he had refused to go anywhere with either of them so vehemently that Professor McGonagall had had to step in and announce that she would do the honours) Harry has packed up his merger belongings and was waiting beside the front door while McGonagall had a whispered argument with the Dursley’s.  
‘I KNOW he’s not your ‘real’ nephew , but you’ve raised him for the last ten years, surely you want to say goodbye?!’  
Harry looked on pitifully at McGonagall as she tried to comprehend the stupidly of his not-family. He wasn’t sad to leave, wasn’t sorry to be rid of them. And on that note, not-Harry swiftly turned and opened the door. ‘Well, bye then.’ He stated, walking out.  
McGonagall caught up to him at the end of the driveway. She said nothing, but he could see the look of pity in her eyes.

Nothing could have prepared Owain and Carys Jones for the disappearance of their baby son ten years earlier. Owain had been at the fire station working the night shift, and Carys and the baby at her sisters for a girls night, when their one year old had gone missing from the spare room.  
That heart stopping phone call Owain has answered at 1am from his sister-in-law Bryn. ‘Owain he’s gone. The baby is gone, we don’t know what.... where’s... the police are here.’  
Owain had dropped everything. He get like ten years later, he still hadn’t managed to pick it all up again.  
It’d been hard. Harder than anything he’d ever imagined in life. He and Carys had had tough patches, moments where he was certain they’d never be able to stick it out... moments where one of the other of them had walked away for a few days. But they’d pulled it together.  
They’d been terrified of having more kids, of it happening again... no matter how much people tried to convince them that it was one of those freak incidents, unlikely to ever happen again in their local are, let alone to them.... it was hard.  
Owain thought that the hardest past was the lack of closure. Their son hadn’t died.... they hoped. He’d disappeared, and they had no idea how or why or where.... until the morning of July 31st.

Nearly ten years after their sons disappearance, while Owain was shoving bread into the toaster, Carys was running around finding missing homework, and their two kids were pulling on school uniforms as fast as they could, the doorbell rang.  
‘Bloody hell.’ Owain had muttered under his breath, their 7 year old Evelyn giggling hysterically and pointing at the swear jar. Owain signed, shoved a few coins in the jar and went to open the door.

  
There, standing on the doorstep, was the most unlikely pair you could ever have imagined. Both tall, but one more like a giant - the shorter man with a long white beard and a purple... gown? The white bearded man smiled gently - almost sheepishly, and said ‘Mr Jones? I believe we might have some news for you... about your missing son.’  
Owain Jones was not a weak man. He pulled people out of burning buildings, scaled ladders, crawled through smoke filled rooms. But in this moment, he could have sworn his knees had turned to jelly and his hand dung out to grip the stair railing behind him.

  
‘Carys!’ He bellowed, and then in a softer voice said ‘you’d best come in then.’  
What followed (after Carys had called his sister and asked her to pick up Evelyn and 5 year old Noah and take them to school) was hours of tears. Anger, yelling, threats to call the police.... and more tears.  
Finally, the doorbell rang again, and Dumbledore, shooing Owain back into his seat, stood and went to open it.  
‘Ah, Harry. Minerva.’  
Quietly, timidly, not-Harry followed Dumbledore into the front room, and with a small smile on his face, looked at Owain and Carys and said ‘hi....’  
Carys promptly burst into tears again, and Owain without embarrassment did the same.

  
Pulling themselves together rather quickly, they both stood, and Carys, face stained with tears approached Harry. ‘Can I.... can I hug you?’  
He nodded, and she flung her arms around him, murmuring words, sentences, everything the boy who had never been loved, had wanted to hear since the moment he’d been left on the doorstep of 4 Privet Drive.  
Time passed, Dumbledore and Hagrid quietly left and Minerva set herself to bustling around the kitchen making tea and sandwiches (by now it was well past 1pm) for everyone.  
By the time sandwiches had been consumed, tea had been drunk, Harry had been cuddled many, many times, and Professor McGonagall had spoken a out the legalities (that mostly seemed to include an awful lot of magical jargon and wiping of certain people’s memories) it was later than they had realised. The sound of feet pounding up the front walk, the front door being flung open (bouncing off the wall much to Owains horror, who yelled ‘Evelyn, the wall!’) and two tiny versions of not-Harry (who it turned out really was Harry, just Harry Jones, not Harry Potter) skidded into the room, their mouths hanging open at the sight.

  
Introductions, hugs, squeals of delight... Minerva leaving, dinner and bathes, and Harry found himself tucked into the trundle bed in his little brother (he had a little brother!!!!) Noah’s room. His mum (he had a mum!!) was crouched on the floor next to him, having pulled the covers up tight, and was in the process of him tenth goodnight hug. His dad (he had a dad!!) was standing in the doorway, having just tucked Evelyn in, and was smiling crookedly at the sight before him.  
‘Come in love, he’ll never sleep if you keep kissing him.’ He said to Carys, who reluctantly pulled away, and leaning over Harry, gave Noah one final kiss goodnight.

  
As Owain came into the room to kiss his sons goodnight, Harry thought to himself, that he wouldn’t mind not sleeping if it meant that he got to have his mother kissing and hugging him all night.  
Owain leaned down over him, as Harry’s eye dropped, a large yawn taking over his face. Owain smiled, ruffled Harry’s hair gently, kissed his forehead and murmured ‘Nos da cariad. Cysga’n dawel.’

Later on that night, after the normal nightly routine of making lunches, folding laundry and checking on the kids (Harry a dozen or so times) Owain and Carys were finally in their own bed.  
Carys rolled over to face her husband and grinned at him. ‘I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll all be a dream.’ She whispered.  
Owain reaches out his hand and stroked the side of her face, his hand drifting down to rest under her chin. ‘It’s not a dream. It’s real cariad.’ He murmured, leaning forward to press and hold his lips against her forehead.  
In this position, they drifted off the sleep, dreaming only happy dreams, of love and laughter, a full house, of the mystery of magic..... and of a whole family. Finally.

In his sleep, Harry Jones smiled, firmly tucked under his covered by him mother, dreaming in images of parents and siblings, love and happiness. He awoke in the still darkness of the morning to his brother and sister whispering (loudly) and drawling into bed with him, knowing he was loved, knowing he would be happy, and knowing that his parents were definitely going to buy him that tortoise....

Miles away, in Cei Newydd, Harry Thomas (formally Potter) dreamed of magic. Of wizards and spells, of unicorns and dying motorbikes. He awoke to the dim morning light, safe in the knowledge that his parents would never let him go to Hogwarts, never let him near the apparent insanity of that Dumbledore man, or the reckless dangerousness of Hagrid. That he would never have to fight the battle that they spoke of against this Lord Whatsy-mould.... Harry, was safe. He was loved, and his family would protect him.

Back at the Joneses house, Owain and Carys had expected to wake the normal busy hubbub of week day mornings, instead, they were woken by the giggles of their three children, and they crept into bed with their mum and dad.

All was well.

Welsh phrases/words:

‘Nos da cariad. Cysga’n dawel.’ - Good night love, sweet dreams.  
Babi - baby  
Mam - mum  
Tad - dad  
Briniau - hills  
Cei Newydd - New Quay  
Ceredigion - Cardigan  
Cymru - Wales

Names:  
Huw - Welsh version of Hugh  
Alis - Welsh version of Alice  
Carys - means ‘loved one’  
Owain - the Welsh version of Owen, means ‘noble-born’


End file.
